Animal
by NoirxIggy
Summary: Harry Potter has been hiding since the end of the War in the form of an unregistered Animagus, but a certain Slytherin happens to discover Harry's secret. Rated M for later chapters. !A/N- IN PROCESS OF BEING REVISED!
1. Human Contact

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: This is my first fanfiction ever, so feel free to flame away! I need the cold hard truth!

Harry could feel the crunch of dry leaves under his hooves as he traveled cautiously though the dense forest. If he tilted his ears to the left, he could hear the babbling of a near by creek and the scurrying feet of small animals. When he angled them to the right, he could make out the sound of… cars?

Stopping dead in his tracks, Harry's legs bunched as he prepared to sprint deeper into the forest and away from human contact. Before he could do so, a small, almost forgotten part of his mind reminded him, _You're still human. No matter how long you hold a stag's form, or how long you live his life._

Pausing once again, he concentrated on the human part of his mind for the first time in three years. Memories of his friends, his family, Hogwarts, the War, and his enemies, all came flooding back. Subconsciously, Harry's feet lead him toward the sound of the cars.

He hadn't thought about being human for so long that his animal instincts were telling him to run, but he persisted. As he drew near the edge of the trees he could smell the tar from the road. Harry could also smell the sent of grass and farm animals.

When he came to the end of the trees he could see a large open field, stretching a long distance. Looking to the right, Harry could see a rather large farmhouse with a bright red barn behind it. A hundred yards behind the barn was a small, two-lane road. To the left was a fenced in field of animals. At first glance, the field seemed to contain at least a dozen horses, but on closer inspection, he could see that that was not the case. Instead of being filled with horses, the field was filled with hippogriffs.

Harry was greatly surprised, to say the least. What were the chances of him stumbling upon a wizard's farm the first time he wondered back into civilization?

_I wonder who lives here_, he thought briefly as he cautiously made his way across the open field toward the house.

As he got closer, Harry noticed that the house was in quite good shape. It was a stereotypical, two-story farmhouse with white walls and Slytherin green shutters. There was a wrap-around porch with a swing, a few rocking chairs and a couple of end tables. The furniture had the same color scheme as the house; white furniture with Slytherin green cushions.

When Harry was about thirty feet from the house, the front door started to open and he stopped in his tracks. Panicking, he started to turn and flee when something caught his eye. A familiar head of white-blonde hair was sticking out of the door.

Trembling slightly, Harry turned toward the house and when he looked up, his eyes met with the sliver eyes of Draco Malfoy.


	2. Missing Harry

**Disclaimer: **Again, I own nothing. J.K Rowling owns everything.

"It's too early to be awake," Draco grumbled to himself as he poured a steaming cup of coffee. Without adding anything to it, he headed toward the kitchen table where his breakfast, eggs, bacon, and toast, lay waiting.

Just when he was seated, an owl landed silently on the windowsill with the Daily Prophet. Sighing, Draco took a piece of bacon off his plate and made his way over to the window. Handing over the bacon, he scooped up the paper and went back to his seat.

Eating slowly, Draco scanned the paper for anything worth wile. _I don't know why I even bother to read this_, he thought to himself. Rita Skeeter still worked for the Daily Prophet, and she was still spreading evil lies and gossip. Taking one last swig of his black coffee, Draco started to close the paper when a small article caught his attention.

Setting his mug down, he took the Prophet in both hands and turned it so that he could read the article at a proper angle. It read:

_**Harry Potter: Missing or Hiding?**_

_After three years of searching, Harry James Potter, Savior of the wizarding world, is yet to be found. After defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Potter was last seem by close friends at the home of Arthur and Molly Weasley. _

_The night before he vanished was said to have been like any other night in the happy home of the Weasley's, but upon waking, the family discovered that Potter was not in his usual place in Ron Weasley's, youngest son, bedroom._

_After two days of searching, the Weasleys contacted the Ministry to report Potter missing. Information of his disappearance quickly spread throughout the wizarding world, and everyone began the search for Potter._

_After one year and no trace of Potter, friends, when asked whether or not they believed Potter was alive, had this to say:_

"_Harry Potter is like another son to us. We would be able to feel it if he wasn't alive. We'll find him sooner then we think," said a tearful, but confidant Molly Weasley._

"_He's one of my best friends and there is no way he can dead. Harry defeated Voldemort, so there isn't any possibility that he was kidnapped and killed," faithful friend, Hermione Granger, told the Prophet._

"_Harry's my best mate. He wouldn't leave without telling us. And even if he was kidnapped, there is no way he can be dead," replied Ron Weasley._

_When the second year came around, spirits weren't nearly as high. Many people had given up the search, thinking Potter was gone for good. Only close friends still continued to look._

_Today marks the closing of the third year of Potter's disappearance, and a new idea has surfaced. What if Harry Potter is in hiding?_

_If anyone has any information on the whereabouts of Harry James Potter, please…._

Draco didn't read the last part of the article and he set the paper down slowly, his brain working furiously. Potter was _still_ missing? Draco had heard all about his disappearance when it happened. The Ministry even came to his house to ask if he knew anything.

Of course he hadn't. Why would he have anything to do with Potter after the War? Draco had been surprised when he found out and even a little worried. Now, he was even more so.

Sure, he and Potter had been rivals from the beginning, and it had only escalated from there, but toward the end of school, and the approach of the War, Draco had started to realize that he didn't hate Potter as he once thought he did. He had ended up being one of the few things that kept Draco sane throughout the whole ordeal of Voldemort.

Draco had even taken the time to look for Potter some. He figured that it was the least he could do since Harry had saved him… multiple times.

Shaking his head, Draco got up from the table, leaving the Prophet and his dishes for his house elves. It was time to go take care of his hippogriffs.

He donned a jacket quickly and headed for the door. Taking off the locking and alarm spells, Draco opened the door and it squeaked loudly. _Note to self: Fix front door_, he thought irritably. Looking up from the door handle and out across the front lawn, he spotted a large stag poised with it's back to him.

Draco cursed himself for not having a sketchbook with him, but before he could do anything about it, the stag turned to face him.

It was perfectly normal apart from two things. One, it was larger then a normal stag. It was the size of a horse. And two, the color of it's eyes were such a vivid green, that they could only be compared to one thing: The eyes of Harry Potter.


	3. Reasons

**Disclaimer: **My ownership=nothing. J.K. Rowling ownership=everything.

Special thanks to **naruka14 **for being my first reviewer ever!

**xXx**

Harry held the eye contact for a split second before he regained function of his body. Whipping his head around, his muscles bunched, and he sprinted across the field toward the woods, praying he wasn't about to get hit in the back with a hex.

Even when he reached the edge of the woods safely, he didn't stop. Harry plunged into the forest, weaving in and out of the closely packed trees with the ease of long practice. All the while a million thoughts and questions were swirling around in his head.

What on _earth_ had just happened? _Idiot_, his mind told him, _You were standing on Draco Malfoy's lawn and he saw you!_ Well what the heck is he doing on a farm, of all places? _Did you happen to think that maybe he _lives _there?_ What about those hippogriffs? _There are usually animals on a farm, you twat._ Did he recognize me? At first he had no answer for that, but then he thought, _You're an animal for Merlin's sake! How in the bloody hell could he recognize you?_

At this point, Harry realized that he had been talking to himself. Slowing to a walk, he shook his head at his craziness. _I've been alone way to long_, he concluded. He continued walking as his body cooled down. After ten long minutes of walking, he came to a small stream. Bending down, he lapped at the water, trying to get as much as he could. Once he was satisfied, he walked over to a tall pine tree and contemplated lying down. He knew that it was dangerous because getting up while in a stag's form was difficult and it took precious time. A wave of exhaustion rolled over Harry and he made his decision.

Being careful of sharp sticks and large roots, Harry laid down gingerly, tucking his front legs up under his body. After scanning the surrounding area for a good few minutes, he slowly swung his head to the side and tucked it close to his body, being careful of his antlers. As much as Harry would have liked to close his eyes, he forcefully kept them open. Danger was everywhere and he had to be ready to run or fight at a moments notice.

Heaving a sigh, Harry's thoughts continued to race. What were the chances of him running into Malfoy of all people? And why had he gone toward the sound of the cars in the first place? _Maybe_, the rational part of his mind supplied, _you're lonely, and you miss being a human. You miss being a Harry Potter._ No, he definitely did not miss being human. Being a stag was so much simpler. He didn't have to worry about clothes, or talking, or cooking. And he most certainly did _not_ miss being Harry Potter, bloody Savior of the wizarding world. He didn't miss all the interviews, or the Daily Prophet spreading lies about him, or the way every one treated him like he hero. He didn't miss how everyone treated him like he was a fragile child who couldn't handle any thing. And he especially did not miss seeing people he knew, who had someone in their family die in the War, everyday. That was more then enough reason to be a stag.

After a few minutes of lying there, his thoughts quieted some. Harry was content to lie there for a while, but as his thoughts slowed, his body became restless. He tried to ignore his twitching muscles, shifting his body in attempts to satisfy them. Sighing deeply once again, he gave up on the fight and slowly stood. Deciding to search for something to eat, Harry started walking, subconsciously heading in the direction of Malfoy's house.


	4. Another Encounter

**Disclaimer:** How much of Harry Potter do I own? **0%**

How much of Harry Potter does J.K. Rowling own? **100%**

**Sorry **for taking so long to update, a lot of stuff has been happening that's been keeping me from writing. Plus, I'm probably not going to be getting on the computer for a while after this because I will be grounded. How do I know this? I'm getting my lip pierced this weekend and my parents don't know about it. So wish me luck!

xXx

Draco blinked rapidly as the stag bound toward the forest, where the trees swallowed him with their thick trunks and shady canopies. The first thing that popped into his head was, _Why on _earth_ did that animal's eyes make me think of Potter?_ He came to the conclusion that it was just how green the stag's eyes had been, and he quickly dismissed the thought. _There's no way the two are connected_, he thought absently.

_Of course I wouldn't have had a sketchpad at such an opportune time_, was his second, and much more frustrated, thought. _Although_, he reasoned with himself, _it wouldn't have done me any good even if I had had it with me. There's no way he would have stayed still after I made noise._ He shook his head as he descended the porch steps and headed toward the pen containing the hippogriffs.

Draco had been an artistic person ever since he could remember, but only his closest friends and his parents knew about his love of art. Because really, no one needed to know that the former Prince of Slytherin had such habits like drawing and painting.

When he was about five yards away from the hippogriffs, he stopped and bowed deeply. They all stopped to look at his silently and quickly bowed back. A smile stretched across Draco's face as he approached the gate of the pen. It had taken a long time to get the hippogriffs to trust him, but now that they did, he was immensely happy. He opened the gate and they trotted out, some of them stopping to nuzzle his arm as they passed. Watching them take off into the air, his smile grew. He trusted them enough to know that they would come back at dusk much like they always did.

He stayed and watched until they disappeared from view. He sighed lightly and turned to their pen. Hippogriffs were very intelligent creatures, but all living thins have to get rid of waste. Draco was just glad that they all went in the same corner. Most days he just used magic to clean their pen and feed and water them, but occasionally he liked to do the work himself. Today was a magic using day.

Draco flicked his wand lazily toward the pile of waste in the corner of the pen, causing it all to disappear into thin air. "Accio feed," he called loudly, pointing his wand toward the barn. Not even a minute later he saw two bags of special hippogriff food floating toward him. Everyone knew that hippogriffs were carnivores, but most people didn't know that they also enjoyed something else every now and then.

Once the bags were on the ground in front of him, Draco bent down, heaved on of the bags off of the ground, and balanced it, right side up, on top of the fence. He pulled roughly at the strings holding the top of the bag closed and they quickly came loose, leaving the bag open and offering chances for him to spill it. Draco dumped the contents of the bag into the closest feeding trough, and then he repeated the task with the other bag and another trough. Next he took out his wand and cast an 'aguamenti' spell on three different water troughs, filling them to the brim.

Having finished his task, Draco grabbed the empty bags and headed back toward his house. When he got inside he disposed of the trash, and headed up stairs to the room he had dubbed his 'studio'. Seeing the stag had made Draco suddenly want to capture the creature's image on paper. Choosing a variety of brown, tan, and green pencils, along with the appropriate type of sketchbook and a sharpener, Draco headed back downstairs. He stopped in the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee on his was out.

Draco set his materials in his favorite seat and proceeded to put it, and a side table, closer to the porch railing and into direct sunlight. He set the coffee on his armrest, arranged everything and got his workspace, and he began…

An hour later saw Draco with a small pile of crumpled papers beside his chair and a blank page in front of him. His elbows were on the table and his head was in his hands. He stared at the paper before him. _I've never had so much trouble drawing something before_, were his frustrated, and slightly baffled thoughts. _Even doing things from memory has never been this hard!_

Sitting back in his chair with a loud sigh of exasperation, Draco looked out over his property and toward the forest where the stag had disappeared. _Why is that animal so compelling when I've only seen it once?_ _I've seen other deer before,_ He thought angrily.

Sighing again, Draco reached for his supplies with intention of giving up when he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw the exact same stag from earlier making it's way across the field toward his house.

Almost bursting with shock and excitement, Draco grabbed the pad of sketch paper, and a regular graphite pencil. He leaned back in his chair, brought his knees up closer to his chest and propped his sketchbook up against his knees. Draco held himself as still as possible and still draw as fast as he could when the stag stopped at the edge of his lawn. _He probably came back to eat the grass,_ he thought absently while his hand flew across the paper.

Draco was so absorbed in his sketch that he didn't notice his elbow get closer and closer to his, now empty, coffee mug. While frantically drawing one of the stag's back legs, Draco's elbow came into contact with the cup and it fell to the floor with a loud crash.

He didn't even glance at the fallen mug because all of his attention was on the stag. It was looking at him with large, frightened eyes and Draco could almost hear it's frantic thoughts. It quickly turned its body toward the forest and started to run. Without thinking, Draco threw his hand up in protest and shouted, "Wait!" To his utter shock, the stag stopped suddenly and, after a brief pause, swung it's head around to face him.


	5. The Antlers

Stupid me! I forgot to dedicate this to anyone! Well I'm doing it now, so this Fanfiction shall be dedicated to… All my friends who have gotten me through the crappy start of this school year.

**Disclaimer: **I own nada(nothing).

J.K. Rowling owns todos(everything).

**A/N: So, you see, the reason it took me so long to get this next chapter out was… You know what? Screw the bogus excuses. My life has been pretty sh*tty this past month and a half, and I've had more important things to worry about than writing fan fiction. But things are looking up, so here's the next chapter. (It also takes forever because I'm a lazy mother f*cker)**

xXx

Harry focused his thoughts on the woods around him as he silently ambled along. It was quite a beautiful morning. The leaves were just starting to change colors and the air was crisp and cool. Birds were singing loudly in the trees above his head.

A large shadow passed overhead and Harry slowed to a stop to see what was flying above him. The first thing he saw was a pair of hooves, and for a fleeting moment, he thought that it was a flying horse. But as the creature made to a graceful landing about twenty feet away from him, he realized it was a hippogriff.

If he had been in his human form, a smile would have been stretching across his face at the sight of the noble animal. It had been while since he had last seen a potentially friendly magical creature. Harry walked forward cautiously until he had cut the original distance that was between them in half. The hippogriff turned to face him, and he bowed deeply in respect. After an unsure second, the creature returned the favor and slowly walked forward to examine Harry.

Later in his first year as a stag, Harry had discovered, with no small amount of awe, that animals, especially magical ones, communicated with each other using their thoughts. He quickly learned that there were two ways that the animals shared information: words, and images.

Harry was very overwhelmed and confused at first, because 'saying' the words _white-dagger-talons_ didn't hold the same meaning to a bird that it did to another deer. Each species had its own vast collection of images and phrases that it used to communicate. By the middle of his second year, Harry had memorized the basics, such as where to find food or water, and when there was danger close by, for a majority of species.

As the hippogriff scrutinized him, Harry gave a cheerful, yet respectful, greeting to the creature. It jumped slightly and swung its head around to face him. _You_ _speak?_, it asked quietly as it cocked its head to the side and gave him a curious look. _Yes_, he replied simply. The hippogriff gave an excited screech and pranced in a small circle. Harry threw back his head and pawed the ground to show his excitement as well.

The creature gave him a cautious glance before it approached and lifted its nose to Harry's side. After sniffing delicately, it shook its head sharply and backed away. _You wizard?_, it questioned curiously. _I am_, Harry replied. He shared an image of his human self with the hippogriff. The creature instantly sent a picture back to him, and said with pride, _My wizard_. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man in the image as Draco. _I know him_, he replied without thinking. It gave another cry and asked eagerly, _True?_ Harry only nodded in affirmative.

Harry watched as the hippogriff put its head against his side and shoved him forcefully. _You visit him!_ it said. He tried to protest, but the creature would not listen to him as it continued to shove him in the direction of, Harry assumed, Draco's house.

After a solid minute of trying to convince the hippogriff that he didn't want to visit Draco, and failing miserably, Harry gave up and just walked along side his over enthusiastic companion. It seemed to take forever to get back to the edge of the woods, and the whole time, the hippogriff talked and shared images with him about nothing but Draco.

Harry paused at the edge of the trees, trying to look for anyway out of his current situation, and, after seeing no way out, he proceeded out into the open. All his animal instincts were telling him to turn and bolt back into the safety of the forest, but he pushed them aside and focused his mind on making it to the house.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Harry watched as the hippogriff took off into the air. _Too bad I can't just take off like that,_ he thought vaguely.

_This is crazy,_ Harry thought idly. _I shouldn't be willingly heading toward the house of Draco bloody Malfoy._ It was almost as if his legs had a mind of their own as he got closer and closer to the house. After a minute of thinking it over, Harry just gave up and let his legs carry him along. Harry walked toward the front of the house, and as he looked down at the long, sweet smelling grass, his stomach growled. For a moment he thought about not eating anything, _But Malfoy won't notice if I only eat a little,_ he thought absently. So he gave a mental shrug, bent his neck, and started munching away hungrily.

His thoughts were beginning to wander and his body was just starting to lose some of its tension, when a loud _crash_ jolted him out of his daydreaming and caused him to throw his head up to find the source of the noise. His eyes locked immediately with those of Draco Malfoy. Harry's animal instincts caused him to turn and start off toward the woods, but then the strangest thing happened.

He heard Draco shout for him to wait, and Harry felt a shock go through his body as he heard the words with his ears _and _his mind! Harry stopped immediately, and craned his neck to look back at Draco. Without thinking about it, he responded instantly with a harsh, _What do you want?_

Draco jumped and dropped his sketchbook, bewildered by what he had just heard in his head. He sat there in shock for what seemed like a long time, until Harry gave an agitated grunt. _He must be waiting for an answer,_ Draco thought, in awe.

_Yes, I am. Now will you kindly tell me what it is that you want so I can leave?_ Harry's voice still had a sharp edge to it. Draco's head throbbed ever so slightly because of the power behind the words.

Draco shook his head sharply, and the first words that left his mouth were, "I wanted to draw you?" He held up his pencil as a weak piece of evidence.

Harry narrowed his eyes and replied, _Why would you want to draw me?_ He was starting to become suspicious, and the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that Draco would discover his true identity.

"Umm… Well the first time I saw you today, you looked rather majestic, and I thought you'd make a good drawing." He explained lightly, not wanting to further irritate this, obviously, grumpy stag.

Thinking about it logically, Harry could see no reason not to let Draco draw him. Also, Harry found himself strangely attracted to Draco's presence. So he gave a very human-like shrug and said, _I suppose there's no harm in it. What do I have to do?_

Draco was astounded that the stag would agree, but he quickly gathered his thoughts and responded. "You can do whatever you like, as long as you don't move too much, Mr…" He let his sentence hang unfinished.

_It's just Prongslet. No title is needed, Mr. Malfoy._ Harry replied, smiling to himself. He cautiously walked back to the place he had been standing before he had suddenly bolted. He stood there for a moment before lowering he head and continued to nibble at the sweet grass.

"You know who I am?" Draco asked in a curious tone. He briefly worried about his grass, but let it slide. _It'll grow back_, he thought absently. He didn't want to waste any time, so he scooped up his sketchbook, flipped to a new page, and began again.

_Of course,_ was all that Harry said in response.

"But how is that so? You're an animal, surely we've never met before?" And it was the truth. Draco had never talked to another deer in his life. Hell, he didn't even know deer _could_ talk until today!

Harry was beginning to have fun messing with Draco, so he replied, _Oh yes. We've been acquainted since we were eleven. We saw each other all the time for about seven years, except in the summer that is._

Draco thought upon this for a moment. "You must mean Hogwarts then. But how…" He thought hard, and suddenly, the realization hit him like a train. "YOU'RE AN ANIMAGUS!"

_Quite right, Mr. Malfoy._ Draco heard the amusement in Prongslet's voice and he couldn't help but grin.

"So you were in my year then? What house?" he questioned rapidly. He had so many questions for Prongslet!

Draco couldn't help but be excited. Only very powerful and skilled wizards were able to become animagi. The process of becoming an animagus was long and arduous, and had the potential to backfire and cause the transformation to go horribly wrong. Once the initial training was over though, an animagus could change at will, any time, with or without a wand.

Harry gave a mental chuckle because of Draco's excitement and replied, _Yes, we were in the same year. And I was in Gryffindor, your rival house._

"You would have been in that bloody house, having the power to become an animagus after all." He said jokingly. "Wait, but that means your real name isn't 'Prongslet'. No one in our year was named _that_. What's your real name? How did you get your new one?"

Harry's thoughts darkened considerably and his voice held a note of finality that Draco didn't dare question when he responded. _It's true that this is a pseudonym, but my old name has no meaning anymore._ He forced himself to take a lighter tone as he continued; _I got this name from my father, who was known as 'Prongs'._

Draco considered this for a moment as he sketched fiercely. "Oh, I get it. 'Prongslet', son of 'Prongs'. He must of used that as pseudonym as well, correct? But why did he call himself that?"

Harry huffed and shook his head suggestively, causing his large antlers to sway back and forth. Over the years, he had become accustomed to their weight and size, but at first they had been quite a nuisance. He had always been losing his balance, knocking them into things, getting them tangled in low hanging branches, and they had caused him severe headaches.

"That makes sense!" Draco exclaimed. "The antlers!" His smile grew the more he thought about it.

Suddenly, a very rude and intrusive thought popped into Draco's head, and he blurted it out before he could stop himself, "So why are you running around as an animagus?"

xXx

**A/N: Sorry for the crappy ending place, but it's way late and I have to, sadly, go to school tomorrow. And I apologize for how long it took me to update this. I always hate when I have to wait for an update and it takes forever, and now I'm doing it too. I'll try to be faster with the next update, but I wont make any promises.**


	6. Theory

**Disclaimer: No poseo nada.**

**J.K. Rowling posee** **todo.**

**A/N:**….. Yep. I'm a liar. This took me forever again. I'm sorry :'(

xXx

Harry stopped eating abruptly when he heard Draco's question. He found the question rather irritating, but he kept his voice calm as he answered, _I'm getting some well-deserved peace, quiet, and distance from others of the wizarding world._

Having no comment for this, Draco retreated into his own mind to think things over.

Most of his thoughts were focused on what Prongslet's true identity was. All Draco knew was that he was a Gryffindor, and the same year as himself. _Well_, Draco thought, _at least that narrows it down to five people._ _Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finningan, and Neville Longbottom._ _Who, out of that group, is the most likely to be this mysterious, talking stag?_

Startled by his own question, Draco realized that he had been _talking_ to Prongslet for a while without even stopping to wonder about how the communication was happening! He had just simply been going with it. Draco had believed that, after spending his whole life surrounded by magic, he was past being surprised by seemingly unexplainable things.

After a minute or two of trying to figure it out, and not being able to come up with a reason, Draco gave up. "Prongslet?" He felt the stag's mind focus on him and he decided that the feeling was a bit unsettling. _It feels so... intimate, _Draco thought absentmindedly, _Like two souls touching._

He heard a snort and paused in his drawing to stare at Prongslet. Before Draco could say anything, said stag beat him to it. _I know what you mean. Try having the first thoughts you receive come from an animal . _Draco opened his mouth to correct him, but was quickly cut off. _And I don't count because I'm not really an animal. I may look like one, but all my thoughts are human. _There was a small pause until he continued, _What is it you wanted to ask me?_

Feeling a bit flustered, it took Draco a minute to remember what he was going to ask. "Umm...Oh yes. How _is _it that you're talking to me?" Draco could vaguely feel the thoughts that ran through Prongslet's mind as he tried to come up with an explanation and he found himself in awe, again. He went back to drawing as Harry answered.

_I believe that I have a theory as to why us speaking to one another is possible. All creatures, especially magical ones, communicate with their minds. They all talk to others of their species best, but they're able to speak with others to an extent. You see, I can talk to animals, because, in a sense, I am one. However, I am still a human as well, so it almost makes sense that I can speak with others of my species._

Draco thought about this theory for a moment before commenting, "That seems like a possibility, but then how come no one has ever talked to an animagus before?

Waiting while Prongslet thought about his question, Draco focused on his drawing. It was coming along well, though the fur was a bit tricky. After that was finished, he moved on to the antlers, his tongue sticking out slightly as he concentrated.

_Maybe no one has ever talked to an animagus because, normally, they don't stay in their animal form long enough. _Harry could feel the puzzlement in Draco's mind, so he explained, _It took me the better part of a year to even learn that animals communicate this way. Two more years is how long it took me to be able to actually talk to them on a basic level._

_Most animagus don't stay in their animal form long and they don't usually have the same amount of interaction with animals as I have. So they haven't had time to learn that this type of communication is possible, let alone how to do it themselves._

Draco thought for a moment about what the stag had said. "That seems like a reasonableexplanation," he replied.

They lapsed back into silence, and as Draco continued to draw, Prongslet's words nagged at him. _That means he's been a stag for three years_, he thought to himself. The information seemed vaguely important, like that particular amount of time was connected to something else. Draco thought about it some more but, try as he might, the answer managed to keep itself just out of reach.

**A/N:** Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. It's been a long Christmas break and my brain is a bit fried at the moment. The next chapter should be considerably longer and it should be here faster as well.


	7. Harry Potter

**Disclaimer:** Yep, don't own Harry Potter and I never will. However, J.K. Rowling will always own it.

**A/N:** HA! A hell of a lot quicker AND a bit longer. I kept my promise this time! This chapter is how I spent my last day before going back to school. I feel accomplished :) The story is actually starting to pick up now, so enjoy!

xXx

_Last but not least are the eyes_, Draco thought to himself. They had been the first, or well, second, thing he had noticed about the stag, and they were by far his most compelling feature. They were an intense emerald green that was not at all common for a deer.

"Prongslet?" he asked, getting the other's attention. A flick of an ear was all the acknowledgement Draco received, so he continued. "All animagi carry a defining, physical human trait, such as a scar or a missing limb, over to their animal form, right?"

_That's correct_, he replied after a brief moment of hesitation. He vaguely wondered where the conversation was headed.

Harry knew, of course, about this little fact. He had spent a good part of a year learning everything he could about anmagi and how to become one. He had learned all the dangers and side effects as well, though the fact that Draco had just pointed out at worried him most of all. Harry had been almost one hundred percent sure that his lightning bolt scar would be the trait he carried over, and it would be the thing that gave him away.

So he was surprised, to say the least, when he looked at his reflection the first time as a stag and saw his bright green eyes staring back at him and no trace of the scar.

Harry was extremely thankful for the absence of the mark, because it had been a burden ever since he learned it had not come from a car crash. It had been a constant reminder of everything Voldemort had stood for: hate, violence, cruelty, and prejudice. Through out the years, Harry had often wanted the scar removed, but, since it had been created by dark magic, it was impossible to get rid of.

Harry was abruptly shaken out of his thoughts when he heard his animagus name being called. He quickly realized that Draco had asked him something and was waiting for a response._ Sorry, I was lost in thought, could you repeat that?_ he asked politely. He lifted his head in order to give Draco his full attention.

Harry watched as Draco's mouth transformed into a scowl and he found himself thinking that it hadn't changed at all since school. He told Draco this, and the Slytherin's only response was to scowl harder.

"Well first of all, I was going to ask if it's your eyes that are your human trait," Draco replied. Harry could detect the curiosity hidden behind Draco's harsh tone and it made him give a mental chuckle.

"Secondly," he continued without waiting for a response. "I finished the drawing and I thought you might want to see it, but now I don't know..."

Harry found himself feeling a bit irritated by Draco's slightly arrogant response. He also noted, albeit absently, that this too, was similar to their school days. The realization left him feeling amused as well.

_Yes_, he responded, _My eyes are my defining trait. Almost all deer have brown eyes._

_Also, I think that, since I stood still long enough for you to draw me, that I have a right to see the finished product._

Harry wasn't going to admit that he was excited, and curious, to see the drawing. He hadn't been aware that Draco was artistic in anyway when they were in school. _Then again,_ he thought to himself, _It's not like we were friends during that time._

He watched as Draco gave a small smile and said, "I suppose you're right. On both accounts."

As he started gathering his materials, he noticed that Prongslet hadn't moved at all, so he responded with a chuckle and the words, "It's alright to move now. I just have to take these supplies back inside and grab some lunch. I'll be right back to show you the drawing."

_Wait,_ Prongslet called out to him. _Just for curiosity's sake, how long was I standing there?_

Glancing down at his watch and doing the math, Draco replied, "About an hour."

Harry watched as Draco disappeared into the house, and, for some reason, as he thought about all that had happened to him that day, he felt his spirit lift. As the feeling continued to grow, he couldn't keep still any longer, and he took off across the open fields on Draco's land. The more Harry ran, the more the feeling expanded, until it got to a point that he could even feel it in his hooves and antlers. He was ecstatic, and it was the best he had felt in a long time.

While Harry ran happily around his yard, Draco sprinted up stairs to his studio to dump his materials. He kept the drawing with him as he quickly descended to the first floor and made his way into the kitchen.

When he arrived, there was a sandwich and chips waiting on the counter next to another cup of black coffee. Draco smiled and fervently thanked the little house elf who was doing the dishes not far from him. He grabbed a knife, and an apple from the fridge, on his way back out.

Balancing all the things in his hands, and tucking the drawing under his arm, Draco managed to open the door to the sight of Prongslet dashing through the grass. He stood in awe as he watched. The stag was practically radiating joy as he ran, and Draco couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

Harry heard the powerful laugh and he slowed to a stop as he searched for the source of the noise. He turned his head toward the sound and saw that it was coming from Draco as he stood in the door way.

Making his way back toward to porch, Harry felt his chest heaving slightly and his legs were tingling pleasantly. _What's so funny?_ he asked lightly, his voice sounded only a little winded.

Draco put his lunch down on the railing as his laughs subsided, and he answered, "You just looked so happy out there running around. It was just quite a sight to see."

Prongslet came to a stop in front of Draco and he watched as said boy, or well, man now, revealed the drawing. It was definitely something to see, to say the least. There was a terrific amount of detail for such a short span of time. He was very impressed. _You're quite talented_, he told Draco, who smiled widely at the compliment.

Prongslet continued to study the drawing while Draco started to slice the apple he had brought out. Nothing was said by either party, but the silence was gratifying.

"It seems like a wonderful thing to be able to run like that," Draco commented. He took a slice of the apple in his hand and offered it to Prongslet. He felt the immense shock in the stag's mind as he realized what Draco was doing.

However, the feeling was quickly replaced by pleasure as Prongslet gently lipped the piece of apple off of his palm. _Thank you,_ he replied gratefully. _It's been a long time since I've had an apple._

_And yes,_ he continued. _It is wonderful. I just feel so free when I run. Actually, I just feel free being in this form._

"Why is that?" Draco questioned. His curiosity was considerably piqued.

_My intentions for becoming an animagus were to be closer to my father. But, after the war, seeing all the people I cared about suffering so much, was just too unbearable. So I transformed, and I just left._

_I feel free because, after all this time as a stag, it's easy to forget all the people that died, it's easy to forget all the pain. And it's easy to forget that I'm human._

Draco remained silent even after Prongslet was done speaking. He was filtering through everything that was said. After a minute of two of the silence slowly growing heavier, Draco spoke up. "It seems to me that what you did was a bit cowardly, no offense."

When he didn't respond, Draco became anxious and started to explain, "Not that I'm one to talk about being a coward. I made really stupid decisions during the war and I regret them. You probably have a very good reason as to why you couldn't stay." He realized that he was rambling, but Draco couldn't seem to stop himself.

The dull thud of Prongslet's hoof against the ground brought Draco's words to a halt and he stayed quiet as he spoke.

_It's alright, no offense is taken. I understand that my actions were cowardly, and I regret them. But there is nothing I can do now._

After another minute of silence Prongslet spoke up, _I have to go now._ He turned and started toward the trees.

"Wait!" Draco called after him. The stag paused and he continued, "Will I see you again? Tomorrow?"

Prongslet turned his head so that their eyes met and his only reply was, _Perhaps,_ and with that, he trotted off into the woods without another backward glance.

xXx

Harry spent the rest of his day wondering aimlessly through the woods. He put a good bit of distance between himself and Draco, but he subconsciously stayed close enough to find his way back. Almost all of his thoughts were related to Draco in some way or another.

When the sun had started to set, Harry came across a herd of deer, and, after a brief explanation, he was welcomed into their ranks for the night.

Harry had learned early on that it was never a good idea to sleep alone, if he could help it. If he was with a herd, there was always someone keeping watch for predators. Plus, it was always beneficial to have numbers on your side when it came to a fight.

The air turned cool as it got darker and the herd, plus Harry, started to settle in for the night. Harry was placed on the outer edge of the circle-like sleeping arrangement since he was, without a doubt, the biggest stag there.

Resting his head against his side, Harry let his eyelids slide shut and he slowly slipped into his dreams. Unfortunately, he was completely unaware of the danger that was very close at hand.

xXx

Draco watched as Prongslet ambled toward the trees and disappeared between their thick trunks. _What an odd experience, _he thought to himself. Glancing down, he noticed his uneaten lunch and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He grabbed the plate of food and sat down to eat it while his mind wandered back to the day's events.

When he finished, he gathered his belonging, and the forgotten remains of the shattered coffee mug, and went inside. After throwing away his trash and putting his drawing safely in his studio. Draco headed to his room to change.

Checking his watch, Draco realized that he had no time for a shower, so he simply cast a quick _scourgify._ After throwing on a green silk shirt, black pants, and simple black shoes, he apparated to his mother's house.

Draco spent the rest of the day, and the evening in his mother's company. Though he loved Narcissa very much, she had a fairly annoying habit of rambling, much like her son. Try as he might, Draco just couldn't keep up with his mother. His thoughts kept getting pulled back to Prongslet.

After a late dinner with his mum, Draco apparated home just as it was starting to get dark. He briefly debated working on one of his art projects, but his drooping eyelids quickly made up his mind. Summoning a house elf to make sure the hippogriffs were all safely in their pen, he then made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Draco enjoyed a wonderfully hot shower and, clad in just a pair of light weight pajama bottoms, he slipped into bed. Within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, he was dead to the world.

His nightmare started out like any of the other ones he'd been having ever since the war. They had occurred night after night at first, but had slowly decreased in frequency as time had passed.

_Draco's dream self was walking through the forbidden forest, and he knew that he was looking for Voldemort. As he walked, a sense of foreboding started to spread throughout his body._

_He lost track of how long he had been walking, but Draco knew that he was close to Voldemort when he started to notice black scorch marks on the trees around him. As he neared the top of a hill, he waited to see the faces of the dark lord and a great number of his followers, but at the last moment, the nightmare changed._

_When Draco got to the top of the hill and looked down he saw, instead of a hollow filled with Death Eaters, a large herd of sleeping deer. Draco descended the hill silently until he was within ten feet of the stag furthest from the middle. _

_After coming to a stop, he watched as all the deer were startled awake by something he couldn't see. The stag near him leapt to it's feet, and swung it's head around to face him. Draco's heart froze when he saw the animal's eyes and his earlier sense of foreboding increased ten fold when he realized that the deer was none other than Prongslet._

_As Prongslet stared at him, the oddest thing happened. A ghostly image of Harry Potter started to materialize in front of the stag, and the two of them shared one pair of eyes._

_A thunderous bang pulled Draco's attention away from Prongslet, and the vision of Harry disappeared just as fast as it had manifested. While he watched, an unidentifiable man in hunting clothes topped the hill on the other side of the hollow, and aimed his gun at Prongslet. Draco saw the fear in the stag's eye just as the man pulled the trigger, and Prongslet dropped to the ground_.

Draco's eyes flew open and he sat up fast as he called out the animagus' name. He felt his body start to tremble because of the adrenaline leaving his body and he came to terrifying a conclusion: He had found Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Ooooo... A bit cliffy and some foreshadowing!... Or at least an attempt at the two. Oh well, hope you enjoyed it anyway!


	8. The Visitor

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter-eth does not-eth belong-eth to me-eth.

**A/N:** All I can say, is that my life has done a complete 180. Enough said.

I'm picking this back up, and hopefully I'll have the motivation to keep it going this time.

xXx

Harry was dreaming of his strange, and very unlikely, encounter with Malfoy. In his dream, the two of them were back at Malfoy's house, just sitting in the field and simply talking. As they continued their conversation, Harry began feeling a strange tingling feeling. Looking down at his body, he realized that he was slowly changing back into a human.

Before he was fully tranformed, a strange sound startled him awake. He quickly got to his feet as the other deer around him rose as well. Looking around franticly, he tried to identify the source of the panic, but his vision was still blurry from sleep and his lack of night vision.

At that moment a shiver ran down his spine and he got the very distinct feeling that he was being watched. Turing to the direction he felt the watcher should be standing, Harry peered into the pitch black forest, trying in vain to spot whoever it was.

The unmistakable sound of a gun tore Harry's attention away from the unknown source of his unease. Wrenching his head around, he saw an unidentifiable man standing atop the top of the ridge. As he watched, the man raised his gun and took aim at him. The muscles in his legs bunched as he prepared to flee, but the man was faster.

A blinding pain exploded in his shoulder and the force of the bullet pushed Harry to the ground, where he lay stunned. Thinking past the pain in his shoulder was difficult, but the dull sound of foot steps and the danger at hand forced him to act. His mind scrambled franticly as he tried to come up with a plan.

Even knowing that he would be in a lot of trouble if anyone ever found out about it, Harry proceeded to attempt changing back into his true form. At first, nothing happened. Focusing on his human form and self, he tried again. It was much harder then he had ever imagined it being, like trying to force yourself into clothes that are much too small, and the pain was almost as intense as the searing in his shoulder.

On his third try, he found himself laying face down and naked on the leaf strewn ground. Rolling his head to the side, he looked at the man, who had stopped a good thirty feet away, and he was scared to find that his eyes were loosing focus. His body felt cold and numb, while his shoulder felt much to hot and strangely itchy.

Taking a deep breath, Harry did the only thing he could. Gathering the image of his desired destination in the front of his mind, concentrating hard, and using the last bit of energy in his body, he apperated away, leaving a stunned and confused muggle behind.

After the extremely uncomfortable pressure on his body had subsided, Harry looked around blankly, trying to see if he'd made it. Off to his right was the vague outline of a house, and off to his left, and much closer, was a pen full of hippogriffs. He briefly wondered how he had gotten his destination wrong, but it didn't matter, because the world was quickly fading and the last thing he remembered was the worried noises and frantic movements of the hippogriffs.

xXx

Draco woke suddenly, sitting straight up in his bed. He gasped for air as beads of sweat began to cool on his overly warn skin. Blinking rapidly, it took him a moment to remember his dream. _What in the name of Merlin's beard was that about?_ he silently cried. _Why the _hell _is Harry bloody Potter an animagus?! Why did I dream something so-_

A screeching cry sounded in the night, causing Draco to leap from his bed and dart to the window. He knew that noise; the sound of very surprised hippogriffs. Throwing on a Muggle tshirt, he ran out of his room, down the stairs, and out the front door. Racing across the yard, he could vaguely see the outlines of his charges as they huddled near to the fence closest to the house.

When he arrived, Draco didn't take the time to bow, instead, he ran right up to the fence, and climbed straight over it, putting himself right in the middle of the herd*. Trying his hardest to give off a calm aura, he reached out to the closest animal, and worked on getting it to calm down. Draco did the two things that he knew the hippogriffs responded strongest to: a calm, reassuring voice, and lots of gentle petting.

After a solid ten minutes of diligent attention, in which time he made sure to get to all of them, they in much better shape, only tossing their heads and swishing their tails in anxiety. As he stood with them, he noticed that they kept looking at the other side of the pen, as if something over there was bothering them. Taking out his wand, Draco cautiously made his way across the pen, whispering, "Lumos," as he did so. A bluish-white light erupted from the tip of his wand, illuminating the space in front of him. When he made it about three quarters of the way across, he spotted something large and dark laying on the other side of the fence.

As he got closer, the light of his wand finally fell upon the foreign object, and he realized, with a start of fear, that it was a body. Still keeping his guard up, Draco ran the last few feet and gracefully slipped between the the bars of the fence. Walking over to the person, he barley registered the fact that they were naked, he saw that they were facing away from him. He walked around to the other side of them, and it took him a moment to register what he was seeing.

Something in his mind clicked, and a shocked gasp tore it's way up Draco's throat and out of his mouth. He would know that messy head of raven hair and that famous scar anywhere. There he was, standing outside, in the middle of the night, staring at the unconscious, or possibly dead, form of Harry Potter. Draco's body felt numb as he lowered himself to his knees next to the other man. His eyes automatically scanned over Harry for any sign of injury. A horror filled gasp of, "Oh Merlin," escaped his lips as he took in the sight of the bloody hole in Harry's shoulder.

xXx

**A/N:** This is a crappy place to end the chapter, but it's late as H-E-double-hockey-sticks, and I just wanted to get something out there so that you guys would know that is story is going to continue.

*Would a group of hippogriffs be called a herd... or a _flock_?!


	9. Safe

**Disclaimer:** Psh, like I own Harry Potter. Only J.K. Rowling can do that.

**A/N:** Yeah, I suck at updating, and I would be surprised if anyone is still keeping track of this story. Also, I (as I'm sure other fanfiction authors do, though they won't admit it) went back and reread the reviews I have gotten on this story, and I just had to smile. I'm being 100% honest when I say that I think this story is pretty bad, but when I see how much you guys seem to like it, it makes me feel a lot better about it, and that makes me want to write more. So enough blabbering from me, and on with the story!

xXx

If someone had told Draco that he would eventually be kneeling next to a bleeding, unconscious, _naked_, Harry Potter, at an unknown, but ungodly hour of the night, he would have either run from them, or laughed himself sick. Surprisingly, he was neither running, nor laughing, at the moment. Instead, he was kneeling on the compacted earth just outside the hippogriff's pen, completely paralyzed by what lay before him.

Draco briefly wondered what unknown deity had caused the current situation he was in. Another errant thought flitted across his mind: this was surely some kind of karma for all the bad deeds he had done throughout his life. He wanted to laugh. How could he have expected everything to be so easy? Just when he had begun to step out of the horrible, unlucky shadow that was the Malfoy name, he was getting dragged right back in.

A low whinny, that was surprisingly close, pulled Draco back to reality with enough force to make him jump. Jerking his head toward the noise, he saw that a hippogriff, one of his bravest, had come to the side of the fence and was starring at him with an expression that could only be worry. Murmuring a few words of reassurance, Draco turned back to the body.

Absently noticing how calm he was, Draco assessed the situation. Though he was not, by any stretch of the imagination, an expert on muggle guns, he was almost 100% sure that a bullet had caused the wound on Potter's shoulder. The size of it, from what he could make out through the blood, seemed to be what he would imagine the size of a bullet to be. That deduction, coupled with the fact that he had _just_ been dreaming about Potter being shot, and not to mention that the wound was on the same shoulder as the deer in his dream, Draco assumed that he was correct.

Positioning his wand tip directly near the hole in Potter's skin, so that the bullet would leave by the same path it had entered, and not create it's own exit, Draco used the only spell he could think of. Exerting the smallest amount of magic possible, he uttered the words, "Accio bullet." At first, nothing happened, and he was sure that he had messed up the spell. Suddenly, he felt the familiar draining sensation as the spell did it's job.

A minute after he had spoken the magic words, he saw the tip of the bullet emerge, struggling to pull itself free of the blood and skin around it. Without a sound, the foreign object finally completed it's goal by shooting out of the wound, causing a small amount of blood to splatter across the ground. It flew straight toward him, and habit caused him to reach out and grab it without thinking. The sticky warmth of Potter's blood registered immediately and Draco's face screwed up in disgust. He drew his arm back to throw the horrid thing away from himself, but something made him stop. Bringing his arm down and opening his palm to look at the thing, his eyebrows furrowed, and an unusual, but very strong, feeling made him stick it in his pocket instead.

Looking back down at Potter, he noticed that the wound had begun to bleed a good bit more, now that the bullet was out of the way. Not wanting him to loose any more blood, Draco took a moment to rummage through his small collection of healing knowledge. Selecting the correct spell, though he only knew a handful at most, he positioned his wand. "Vulnera sanentur," he whispered. Unlike his last spell, Draco poured his magic into his current one and the effect was almost immediate. After just a short period, in which time he knew that the wound was healing from the inside out, he saw the hole slowly close up and cut off the bleeding.

Sighing a little in relief, Draco paused before staggering to his feet. Since everything had slowed down, the adrenaline started to drain from him veins, and he was suddenly exhausted. Forcing his tired muscles to work, he stated to cast a levitation spell on Potter, but then he took note of something that he had only absently noticed before. The man in front of him was without a single scrap of clothing. Under different circumstances, Draco would have blushed, but at the moment he was too tired for even a reaction as small as that. Instead, he simply removed his shirt and draped it over Potter from waist to knees, accidently catching a slightly more detailed glance than he had intended. Shaking his head to clear out unwanted thoughts, Draco levitated Potter off the ground, and slowly began to guide him back to the house.

Once Draco reached his destination, he was faced with another problem; how to get Potter into the house, up the stairs, and into the guest bedroom. After a brief moment of consideration, he decided on a solution. Without giving himself time to think about it, he quickly slipped one arm under Potter's neck, the other beneath his knees, braced himself, and released the spell. The other man's weight settled in his arms, and Draco was surprised at how light he was. Concentrating on the guest room, he disapparated.

When the squeezing sensation was over, Draco shook his head to clear it, and he called out, "Mitzi. Rigby," knowing the two house elves would hear him. Simultaneous _crack_'s were heard as the elves entered the room, along with two voices questioning, "Yes, Master Draco?"

"Rigby, the lights," he commented. Once the room was flooded with light, he continued. "Please bring me some hot water and a towel. Though the water can't be too hot," the elf nodded and disapparated. "I need you to get me some warm pajamas, please Mitzi." he instructed.

Once she disappeared, Draco placed Potter on the bed. Not a moment later, both elves were back with the things he had asked for. "You can set the stuff on the bedside table. Thank you both," he said with a weary smile. The two of them bowed before disapparating once more.

With a sigh, Draco pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. Reaching for the cloth, he dipped it into the warm water, wrung it out, and began to clean the blood from Potter's body. _I don't know why I'm doing this_, he thought. _Either of the elves would have been happy to clean him up and cloth him,if I had just asked._ He sat there denying it, even as he continued to work, because he already knew the answer. Draco was doing it because it was the least he could be doing for the person who had saved the wizarding world, and more importantly to Draco, his family.

When the last of the blood was gone and the water was tepid and tinged a dark pink, Mitzi came back to take the bowl and cloth. She put a steaming cup of his favorite tea in place of the cleaning supplies, and he gave her a grateful pat on the head before she disapparated. Next was the harder part.

Resigning himself to his fate, Draco stood with a sigh and grabbed the pajamas. Laying them down beside the unconscious Potter, he hesitated. It wasn't that seeing another man naked bothered him, quite the contrary, in fact he enjoyed men without clothing, because he was gay after all. It was the fact that it was _Potter_, that bothered him.

Shaking his head, Draco reached out, hesitated halfway there, clenched his fists, unclenched them, then swiftly reached down and yanked his shirt off of Potter. After turning to lay the shirt in his abandoned chair, he turned back around, without hesitation, and reached for the clothing. Lifting up the dark green, long sleeved, shirt, he planned to quickly dress the man and be done with him for the night. However, Draco's eyes took it upon themselves to quickly glance over Potter's naked form, and he paused.

Deciding that it wouldn't hurt, he let his eyes drift over the other man once more, a bit more slowly this time. Draco noticed that Potter hadn't grown much since they had last seen each other, and he smirked, thinking, _still taller than the Boy-Who-Lived_. He saw that Potter was also still as thin as he last remembered, but now there was wiry muscle beneath his slight frame. His hair was a bit longer, and the 'messy mop' had become more of a 'just shagged' look. Smirking, Draco's eyes wandered lower to the tanned skin of his well defined abs, and he paused only briefly before looking lower. Nestled in a seemingly well groomed patch of hair was Potter's manhood. _Not bad._ _Besides being popular, good looking, and war hero, he just has to be well endowed as well,_ he thought with not real hint of irritation. _I wonder how it looks when-_ Suddenly realizing where his thoughts were headed, Draco shook his head to get rid of the images.

Disgusted with himself, he quickly set about clothing Potter. Because of his irritation with himself, Draco was a little rougher than he meant to be. He quickly maneuvered the man's body and shoved his limbs into the correct holes and finally did up the last button with an angry flourish.

Shaking his head and sighing at his own immature behavior, Draco noticed the tea still sitting on the the table. Grabbing it, he knocked it back in a few short gulps and placed it back on it's saucer. Rigby came to collect the items the moment they made contact with each other, and he then gathered Draco's discarded shirt as well. Mumbling a sleepy 'thank you', he also instructed the elf to watch over his guest and to notify him the moment he woke up. Draco, along with the elf, made his way out the door, turning of the lights as he did so, and headed toward his own room. Not even bothering to turn on a light, he stumbled his way to the bed and unceremoniously fell onto the mattress. The moment he had the covers pulled up around him, Draco was asleep.

**A/N:** Wow. -^_^- I've written some pretty erotic stuff before, but I have never shared it with anyone, and just writing that tiny bit in this chapter, knowing that people are going to read it, make me nervous. I tried not to make it seem stupid or awkward, but I don't think I did too well. Jeezm, how am I going to write smut for you guys if I can barely handle something small like this? Oh well. I will worry about it when I get there!


End file.
